“And what’s the last thing you’d do?” he prodded.
“Attack straight on,” another said. “Suicide.”
He nodded. “And yet, that’s exactly what I intend to do. Go in with a limited aerial attack, keepin’ most of the force in reserve to cover the flanks. Then we’ll send in our biggest, nastiest-looking crowd first, the type that won’t get bogged down there. I also want a squad of flyers—those bat fellows will do—to drop a load o’ rocks and buckshot on that swamp before dawn. Lots of it—and from a height.”
Mavra watched him with growing admiration and fascination. This was his first large-scale battle, yet he sounded like all the generals of past history. Crisp, professional, analytical.
“Buckshot?” somebody asked.
He nodded. “Got to be mines in there. Tell artillery to bring up the cannon in rows, too. I want a pattern of fire from just across the border slowly advancin’ until it’s covered the whole territory—before our people go in. And emphasize strongly to the troops that they keep advancin’ as long as they don’t hear retreat blown. Understand? Reserves follow the first wave in sections, wave after wave. Pack ’em in—and move up the artillery as soon as you can. Expect flank attacks. And when you get to them trees, here’s what you do…”
Mavra listened with amazement at his detailed instructions. And, after they’d left to convey the message to their troops, she told him, “You’re going to kill a lot of people if you’re wrong.”
“I’m gonna kill a lot of people if I’m right, too,” he responded gravely. “But this’ll be our test, how our dscipline works, how all our units work together. And, if I’m right—and I am—I’ll be the genius who won the battle.”
Asam had been right about the mines, but he hardly needed the artillery barrage. The Olbornians understood a lot more about war this time, of course, but they themselves were a thousand years removed from any practical experience. On the theory that the more mines you had the more enemy you got, they’d sunk them by the hundreds in that muddy swamp. When the aerial bombardment of rocks and buckshot finally hit one, it set off every one near it. The chain reaction was spectacular in the predawn sky; it looked as if the entire world were blowing up. The concussions reverberated for kilometers in all directions, practically deafening all sides and almost knocking several ghostly aerials out of the sky.
Asam, who had not slept all night, immediately sent word to the artillerymen to cancel the carpet and concentrate on widening the area covered. He was certain now that the mines had been laid in close rows and that hitting one in a row would set off the entire row.
He was correct.
Mavra, who had never seen anything like it before, looked at the exploding, bubbling mass uneasily. “You expect people to charge into that?” she asked, aghast.
He nodded. “On the run and laying down fire all the way.”
With first light, he signaled for the attack to proceed, and at the same time diurnal aerials took off to either side while more started dropping much more lethal stuff into the trees, mostly inflammables.
The Olbornians, although shell-shocked, knew that the attack was coming and went to their emplacements. They had a good, solid defense line—from the air it could be seen that they had raised bastions, star-pointed redoubts that could cover each other every step of the way. To secure an area, three bastions would have to be taken at the same time while the ones on either side still receiving a withering fire from the ones farther down.
Olbornian artillery waited for the leading wave to get almost to the center of the clearing before they opened up their presighted cannon. Palim, Dillians, Slongornians, Dymeks, Susafrits—they started to go down. Creatures that were crablike aided creatures that were insectival; creatures that were elephantine shielded creatures that were centauroid. And each wave moved quickly to fill in for its fallen comrades.
Asam studied the scene through field glasses and nodded approvingly. “Uh huh. They’re holding together, those people of yours.”
“They’re religious fanatics,” she muttered cynically. “They love to die for the cause.” Still, she could not deny that, within her, she felt a great deal of admiration for the courage being shown there. And they were all volunteers.
A meter-long creature with a segmented body, dozens of legs, and six pairs of transparent wings came in with a buzz and dropped new photos at Asam’s feet. Their thorax-mounted cameras were providing him with the kind of intelligence the Olbornians could only wish for.
“They’re breaking,” he noted, a satisfied tone in his voice. “By God! They’re retreating!”
She smiled at him. “That means we’ve got them.” He shook his head violently. “Uh uh. They’ve just realized I caught on to their little game and they’re trying to draw us in while they get word to the flanks to change tactics. Whether we win or not will depend on whether there’s enough command organization down there to do what I ordered when they reach the trees.” He reached over and nodded to his signalman, who was standing with a limelight reflector facing the battle scene.
“Form the columns,” he snapped, and the message was sent. “Split ranks and form defensive perimeters.”
Not everybody below could be held back by iron discipline, of course. For them, too, it was their first battle, and seeing the enemy falling back was heady stuff to an already emotionally pumped-up force. The ranks behind, though, not having had to face the brunt of the assault, were more easily led, Dillians taking the lead, and a defense line was established across the open area through which more troops poured, some going forward but the bulk peeling off to right and left.
And suddenly the forest erupted with living bodies. Olbornians, yes, but not just Olbornians. The very ground seemed to come alive with hundreds upon hundreds of huge mouths all filled with infinite rows of sharp teeth.
Again the leading forces were taken by surprise and went down; the ones still rushing through the new line, though, formed reserves that peeled off to right and left to support their comrades under attack.
Mavra looked through her field glasses and shook her head. “It’s too far away,” she sighed. “What are they?”
“Well, the ones dropping from the trees are more Olbornians, of course—and I think I see a lot of well-prepared sniper nests up there, too. But they used the forest and the natural color of their allies to disguise the main force.”
“Allies?” she echoed, confused.
He nodded. “Giant lizards, with the biggest mouths and biggest bellies you’ve ever seen. They can lie absolutely motionless for days, but when they want to move, they move! I’ve seen Zhonzhorpians run on two legs at over twenty kilometers per hour—on all fours they can be almost twice as fast and climb a tree or a slick wall right after you.” He looked into the glasses again. “Ha! See? They forgot a machine gun isn’t a death-ray! It can put up a withering fire, but it can only fell what it hits, and it can’t hit everybody!” He turned to the signalman. “Make for all reserves to flank!”
Almost as the signal was transmitted, the remains of their fighting force, some thousand or so soldiers, crossed half a kilometer up and half a kilometer down from the battle and started to close.
Asam sighed and put down his glasses. He looked suddenly very old and very tired. “We got ’em,” he sighed. “We won. A lot o’ fightin’ yet to do, but it’s ours.”